Benvolio Alone
by owlish quagmire
Summary: Post-Romeo-and-Juliet-Mortem. It's Benvolio after it all. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey. Nuttin belongs to me. It's too bad…Don't know where this came from; my head was just in that medieval mood.**

---After Romeo and Juliet are found dead---

Benvolio: (Walking around aimlessly through Verona)

Oh, coz, was this to be?

Was thou fated to lie with the Caple Juliet in that dreaded tomb of a thousand sighs?

Was thou fated to leave mine company, as was dear, sly Mercutio?

Should you both leave thine friend and confidante for the wonders of the afterlife in that place so far above?

(Screaming now) Wast thoust very intention to depart from poor Benvolio and leave thine truest companion alone in this desolate world?

(Calming down yet depressed) Well, friends, success is happily played on your part then.

The truest of true lie dead in a pew, is that not what thou would utter, Mercutio?

Poor, dying, dead, sly Mercutio?

Was thou happy when thou was slain in vain by Tybalt's fierce sword?

Was thou happy, Romeo, when thou downed thine treacherous poison of the gods?

(Sobbing on the corner of a street) What, if I may ask, is the power that one calls happiness?

Does it not bring sorrow to others as it departs to another?

Does it not disappear as quickly as a hare to its hole when tragic times strike?

It is a flimsy thing, happiness, to truly be realized in the fact that one has it.

Once it is realized that it is possessed, it vanishes in a moment; one that one wishes they couldn't have noticed it so it still would have been had.

(Moaning) Thou art happy, my doornail companions, to see me in a state such as this?

I am not slain by flaming sword nor drowning in fatal extracts down my throat.

And yet, my dearest fellows, I am sped.

I am sped from this grief which pierces my heart and from this sorrow which suffocates my very breath.

I am sped truly.

It will not matter, I am one of many.

Tybalt, Mercutio, Paris, Romeo, Juliet, Lady Montague; all out of this life and into the next.

Twill not matter, I will only add mine name to the list to join this happy masquerade.

Twill not matter.

**Okay, I know that was a little strange, but I was-at the moment-obsessed with writing something like this. I don't know why, just that I did. I have no idea if I'll continue this or add other stories. Maybe. If I got the language down. Now….REVIEW!!!**


	2. Party!

**Hi. Um, again. Sorry it was a looooooong wait…………yeah, well… here's the next installment. I obviously decided to continue this. Yay!!!**

Benvolio is once again pacing the streets of Verona.

Benvolio: Oh! Sadness is mine again and yet again! How shall I strive to survive this very existence without mine company of the best?! Mine only solution, the cure to this poisonous world, should be…by cutting the very cord of mine life. Yes, it shall be the right choice, as it was for the others before!

Balthasar walks down the street and hears the end of Benvolio' s speech. He then sprints the remaining distance between them.

Balthasar: Oh dear Benvolio, what compels thou to say such corrupt words? Have thou no respect for the magic that continues the flame of your existence?

Benvolio: Ignorant boy, you know not! That magic that thou speak of, it is not the flame, but the bane of my existence! Oh, how I long to smother its glory in the fullest until it turns to gray coals that shall never burn again! Oh, how I long to kill it!

Balthasar (startled): Brother, no! Thou cannot extinguish thine self! I forbid it! In short, thou just needs a reason to add kindle to that very flame, not smother it! Anon! I have a reason at most! Meet mine company at the feast of the tragic Capulets at four and a quarter on the Tuesday next, and I shall show you the kindle thou are looking for.

Benvolio: Thou honestly propose that mine troubles should be calmed by a FEAST?! Happiness is thine boy; thou know not of the pain that strangles me. Ignorance is once again thine. Go and frolic in a field filled with it; to not know and understand the true hurt that cripples others. Go, and enjoy the obliviousness.

Balthasar: Brother, I mean no harm to thine self. I…

Benvolio: No, speak nothing of it. It is gone, like the wind. Ever changing, yet it will never come back.

Balthasar: Thou are wrong to say that the wind never returns, for it does. Especially on bright summer days in a city called Verona… Please, Benvolio, join mine self at this feast of Capels. It will help thine self.

Benvolio (reluctant): If this will stop thou from asking any more of me, I will consent.

Balthasar (relieved and joyful): I shall see thy face there. Adieu!

Benvolio: Adieu.

Balthasar leaves.

Benvolio: Oh heavens above, what have I agreed mine self to?


End file.
